


Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs

by toomuchplor



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M, Roleplay, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-06
Updated: 2006-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchplor/pseuds/toomuchplor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's morning, and Clark is eating cereal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs

Clark walked into the room with a bowl of cereal in one hand and a spoon in the other, munching on something almost certainly containing toxic amounts of starch and sugar. Glancing up, he cast Lex a wicked smile and strode towards where Lex was sitting on the couch.

“You’re just getting up?” Lex asked censoriously, trying to look unhurried as he folded up the morning paper, because he knew what was coming next.

Clark’s grin resurfaced as he descended, one knee on either side of Lex’s hips, the bowl perched on the back of the couch, the milky spoon brushing Lex’s cheek as Clark got comfortable. “You’ve been up for hours,” Clark drawled in his best Lex voice (which sounded nothing like Lex), “and you’ve already had time to take out several unstable small corporations while I was just lying in bed.” A flash of playful tongue, and Lex was fighting against a compulsion to smile back. “All by myself, all alone in bed,” Clark appended meaningfully.

“You’re too heavy to do this,” Lex protested, but he didn’t push at Clark’s shoulders, only settled his palms there, measuring breadth, solidity. “You’ll break the furniture.”

Clark shifted his ass on Lex’s thighs and spooned another mouthful of cereal into his mouth. “Can’t break it with this if what we did last week didn’t break it,” he pointed out, words angled around crunching sounds.

“Let me ask you this,” Lex answered, watching Clark lick his lips. “If you were building a bridge, would you assume it was safe just because one mack truck drove over it without the bridge collapsing?”

He had expected a smart answer, maybe a sneer, but instead Clark’s eyes went soft and heavy-lashed and he dove in to deposit a sugary kiss. When Lex blinked askance, Clark tilted his head and said, “Bridges. You're such a romantic."

Lex slipped one hand down the back of Clark's boxers and squeezed the round of one buttock. Clark, used to this attention, simply munched on a second mouthful of cereal, idly squirming under Lex's touch. Challenged by this, Lex bowed his head and took one nipple between his teeth.

Clark sighed contentedly as he swallowed. "You're playing Humbert Humbert," he said fondly, with the lift of one eyebrow, "you pervert."

Lex arched his own brow in response and tugged Clark's boxers down over his ass. Clark knew him very well, maybe dangerously well. But there was nothing wrong with that fact at the moment, not when it meant that Clark could slip into character so quickly, with no request needed on Lex's side.

Lex circled Clark's hole with one finger, watching Clark's face, marvelling at how impassive it could stay, how cool and innocent he could appear with that spoon balanced between perfect young lips. Sometimes Lex liked his Clark Kent farm-fresh, blushing and eager and clumsy, and sometimes -- sometimes he liked his world-weary Lolita.

Who exhaled quietly as Lex stretched him, shifting his firm ass absently, not deigning to make eye contact as he continued to eat his breakfast. Who kicked off his underwear only when Lex urged him to do so, settling back down on Lex's lap with no regard for Lex's own comfort. Who, in spite of all pretenses, couldn't help but cry out a little when Lex pushed down on his shoulders, driving up into him with only the hasty application of saliva as their lubricant.

Lex loved this variation on their theme, loved Clark's chameleon nature and loved especially that when Lex finally came, Clark shed his disguise in an eyeblink, letting the cereal bowl crash to the floor behind the couch and attacking Lex full-force with open mouth and demanding tongue, saying insane lustful things about beauty and filth and how it all got mixed together between them.

Lex wound up on his back on the area rug, calves crooked over Clark's straining shoulders, holding on desperately while Clark slammed into him, adult and dominant and alien overlord and a hundred other things that lurked under his perfect ever-youthful golden skin.

Too soon, but Lex was hard again, and Clark wasn't about to let that go unnoticed. His hand was a perfect vise around Lex's cock, and Lex might just let Clark sleep in every Sunday morning if this was the result. Closer and closer to oblivion, until with a sharp cry, Clark moved deep and came. Lex followed him helplessly, pulled over the edge with Clark as though they were tied together on a level beyond the physical.

Which was, actually, what had brought them here in the first place.

"Bridges," Lex mumbled into Clark's sweat-damp curls.

"Such a romantic," Clark whispered in response.


End file.
